Alex wakes up to his phone chirping, thinking for a wild moment that it's his alarm clock, but after he hits the keypad, shutting it up, he flops back down against the bed... just to realize that it's still dark outside, the horizon only just turning a dull grey as the sun lazily rises. Knowing then that it's not his alarm, he fumbles for and finds his phone, squinting tiredly at the alert icons- the only one that's there being the new email notice. He groans and accesses it, logging into his account after fumbling his password a couple of times. All exhaustion fades from his mind as he realizes who the email is from- WWE.
He reads it once, twice... a third time, before it registers with him. "I have a match," he mumbles in shocked realization. "I... I have a match!" But his excitement is dulled abruptly as he rereads it again, realizing just what it all means- a Battle Royal for a chance at a match for the Intercontinental title, which means... little more than a week after Miz lost that belt, he could be competing for it. He stares at the small device in his hands and groans, eyes slipping shut. "Mike..."
He wonders how badly his friend's reaction will be, if he'll be mad or just slip further into the depressed state that Alex had last seen him in before Morrison had taken him off to California, a short stop until he continued onto Canada for Christmas Bounty. He only hopes that Mike repays his loyalty in kind- Alex had never complained when this, or that, or the other had taken his friend away for weeks or months at a time, all he can hope is that Mike will reciprocate in kind about this long shot chance at being #1 contender.
Alex stares at the clock blankly for a few moments before closing his eyes. Never one to shy away from difficult situations, he grabs his phone and hits #2, listening to it ring over and over. He's almost secondguessed his decision to call now, when Mike might either be trying to sleep or already on the set, filming a scene, when it connects. "Hello?"
He chokes and closes his eyes, trying not to sound as worried as he feels. "Oh. Hey, Mike."
"How's it going?" He sounds normal but Alex is a horrible judge of these things, especially over the phone, hesitating long enough that finally Mike speaks again. "Alex? You there?"
"Oh. Um. Yeah, yeah, I'm here." He takes a breath. "Um. I guess- I just wanted to let you know before you found out some other way..."
"Are you alright?" Mike asks, going from impatient to worried as the extended, tense silences continue from his former protege. "Alex, if something's wrong-"
"No, I- I mean, it's just... I have a match on Main Event tomorrow, Mike." He can tell, even through the phone, by the confused silence that follows this that his friend doesn't understand his conflict- doesn't get why... "It's for contendership to the Intercontinental title, Mike."
"Oh." Another silence, this time from Miz's end, and Alex waits it out, uncertain what to say or if he can say anything to make this better. "Good luck, Alex." It's quiet, dull, and it hurts the younger man to hear it, but before he can say anything else, Mike clears his throat. "Look, um I have to go prepare for the day's taping. We'll talk soon, alright? Bye."
Before Alex can say or do anything, the phone clicks in his ear as Mike disconnects the call and he gapes at the cell phone in discomfort. "Dammit. I'm sorry, Mike," he mumbles, feeling badly despite it not being his fault- he has no say in what the general managers dictate for these matches, after all. He considers bringing John into it but ultimately drops it, knowing that pushing Mike, especially when he's so busy with Christmas Bounty, would more than likely backfire. All he can hope is that the former champion would be able to take this time and sort through his thoughts and disappointment, end up on more solid ground upon returning to WWE.
By Wednesday night, he's as ready as he can be, his ring gear on and mind clear of all grim thoughts: although they hadn't been friends for long before his firing, John's meditation habits had stuck with Alex better than they'd ever had with Mike, helping him through the months he'd not been used following his surgeries, and so as he enters the ring and waits for the others to follow, he breathes in and out and takes in the crowd, focusing on anything but the phone call he'd had with Mike.
And although he doesn't win the battle royal, he lasts almost half of the match- a decent enough showing considering it'd been so very long since he'd last been on TV for actual competition. Although any loss is hard to stomach, he can't deny he feels... relieved. He won't be competing against Barrett for the Intercontinental title; he won't be adding to Mike's depression any further than he already had. It's with a steady hand that he texts Mike later that night. I lost the battle royal.
His response is as simple. I'm sorry.
It's fine. He hesitates over the buttons on his phone and sighs. Are we?
Yes, Alex. I just need time. It's been a weird few weeks.
He releases a soft breath, his eyes shining sadly. I know. Take all the time you need, Mike. I'm here whenever you need me...
I know. Thanks.
Tension he hadn't even been aware of now drained from his shoulders, he settles in for bed that night, things much clearer for him. He falls asleep easily.
That Friday Alex is watching with a small smile as Del Rio walks out of his Smackdown match against Swagger the victor, despite taking more damage to his knee, Ricardo supporting him up the ramp with help from his crutches. It's difficult to watch the Mexicans forced to limp around, both working through their individual leg injuries, but it's somehow reassuring too that they could continue to work towards regaining what was lost to them over the past few weeks, refusing to be held back by all of the pain they must endure. When WWE uploads the video to the match, he DMs the link to Mike on Twitter, aware that he'll probably see it in the morning, since it's fairly late at this moment. This might cheer you up a little.
Mike wakes up the next morning, annoyed that he'd woke up so early despite not having to. Filming's a half-day, starting at 10, but his body is still on the media schedule, waking him up just before 7 AM every morning that he'd not needed to. Grunting unhappily, he fumbles for his phone and idly scrolls through tweets and emails, stopping on Alex's DM alert. He can't tell what the link is to, thanks to Twitter shortening them all, but he clicks it anyway, knowing that Alex just means well. He watches the match quietly, sighing when Del Rio wins at the end, clinging to Ricardo as he struggles to his feet with the younger man's support. He gets what Alex's point is without it being said: Alberto had also lost his title the night following Wrestlemania, but instead of letting it and his injury hold him down, he'd gotten right back up and fought, continues to fight for what he wants most: his title back.
Miz closes his eyes and considers it. He can't do a lot for his title aspirations here in Canada, and won't be able to while the movie is filming, but it won't last forever. He'll be back in the WWE before long, and he can't be in this mindset by then. He knows this, people on the movie set already whispering when they think he's not listening or watching about how he's not what they'd expected, his attitude when not filming subdued and uncharacteristically quiet. Anger had fueled him during the filming of Marine 3, due to everything Laurinaitis had put him through, but now he finds he's just tired, even after the past few days of more regular sleep.
He glances around the quiet hotel room and sighs, forcing himself out of the bed. He knows he can't keep on like this, especially with how visibly worried Alex is. "First things first," he mumbles, changing into some street clothes. Once he toes into some shoes and collects his keys and wallet, he makes his way out of the room and does what he used to do when faced with free time while filming Marine 3: he walks, takes in the familiar sights from his last time in Vancouver. The city looks the same, yet so different, and he shakes his head, reflecting that it'd only been nine months since he'd last seen it, aware of how quickly things move in cities like this. Resting a hand on a nearby brick wall dividing a shopping complex from the sidewalk he's currently on, he smiles. "It's ok, I've changed a lot too."
He's still not sure if these changes are necessarily good, or bad, but adds it to the list of things to consider while in this city. Taking one step and another, he slowly continues his walk. He has to be at the set in a few hours, and he doesn't want to delay the day's filming. Despite everything, he hadn't forgotten about Morrison's match that will be streamed online later tonight. The last thing he wants is to mess up and miss that as well, pleased to find that his friend is competing more regularly. Even if it's not where he belongs, in the WWE.
He sighs. Another of my failed attempts... Closing his eyes, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and crosses the street, turning back towards his hotel room to prepare for the day ahead.
That night, he races back once more to his hotel room, a grocery bag crinkling in his hand as he tries to make it back in time for the iPPV's start. With his schedule, he doesn't get much of a chance to check out wrestling outside of the WWE, the indy he and Alex had checked out during Wrestlemania week and now this being something utterly rare for him, and both had been for Morrison. He laughs slightly at the thought as he walks quickly through the hotel lobby, only stopping long enough at the front desk to leave an order for room service. His appetite hadn't been great the past few days but between skipping breakfast to take that walk and food at the set leaving much to be desired, he realizes he's starving, probably helped by the fact that he's actually excited to see John's match tonight, taking his mind off of his own problems for a few hours.
Once he's in his room, he pulls out bags of popcorn and a bottle of diet cola, setting up his laptop to wait until the show starts in five minutes. Room service arrives at the tail end of the first match, which just happens to involve CM Punk's best friend, Colt Cabana, a sneer spreading across Mike's face as he remembers when the man went briefly as Scotty Goldman, even appeared on the Dirt Sheet. Tipping the man who is waiting at the door with his burger and fries, Mike mumbles a quick thank you before returning to the computer, biting into his burger and sighing. He picks at the fries for a few moments, trying not to think about the post-Wrestlemania celebration he'd had with Alex, John, Del Rio and Ricardo, but finally gets distracted by the iPPV, laughing at another familiar name- Colin Delaney- coming out to, of all things, Ke$ha.
He half-watches for the next two hours, working through what's left of his burger and fries before digging into the popcorn, his body sinking into the mattress as he relaxes fully for the first time in what feels like forever. He'd competed briefly in places like this, where the lights flickered and the ring was as unforgiving as the floors, if not more, before entering in Tough Enough. He pays attention fully when John's opponent, Kevin Steen, storms the ring during one of the matches and attacks Spike Dudley. He's a big guy, physically imposing in a way, but worse than that, he seems brutal and the take-no-prisoners type and for the first time in a long time, Mike finds himself worrying about his former tag partner's physical well-being. Add that to the fact that the man had just lost his 2CW heavyweight championship the night before, apparently, and Mike's uncertainty grows. He doesn't seem the type to take such a loss in stride or get depressed over it...
He digs around in the bag of popcorn, hands shaking a little as he chews on the kernels. The last thing he needs is to see Morrison get injured again, after everything, but he'd promised to watch and so he forces himself to stay, keep his eye on the laptop as more matches go by. He knows when the heavyweight title match- for the belt that Steen had lost just twenty-four hours ago- starts that John's match will be next and his anxiety grows as the two men that he'd never really heard of before go back and forth, ladders and barbed wire, piledrivers skull-first into thumb tacks, and he grows ill as he wonders how either Kevin or John will try to outdo the madness going on in the ring that reminds him so much of ECW, if it's even possible for the two men to do so.
But when it finally starts, their match seems straight forward enough- even when the action spills out to the floor, the two men keep weapons out of it mostly, and John is holding his own against the much larger man... just to get caught up in a piledriver off of the top rope that leaves him gripping his neck and Mike loses track of the match for a few moments, reminded uncomfortably of when John was fresh off of his surgery, his neck and shoulder still a mess up until his release because he'd returned too soon. But his friend gets back into it and he regains the upperhand, hitting a second Starship Pain and pinning Steen, Mike releasing a faint breath as relief floods him, relaxes him. Steen doesn't stick around after that, rolling out of the ring and leaving up the stairs to give Morrison a few minutes on the mic before the show ends.
Mike listens to John's show of respect towards the company, towards his opponent, and the crowd, smiling slightly. Despite everything, John's love for wrestling seems intact, based on what he's seen the past few weeks- John's match against Elijah Burke and Jushin Liger, and now tonight's match. It's a relief, giving him hope that maybe, maybe someday... those disinterested in having him back in WWE would change their minds and he'd have his best friend back by his side. Blinking back to awareness of the reality, he realizes that it's getting late and he needs to be up early, filming schedules returning to the normal obnoxious morning hours, so when he calls John, he's glad to get the man's voicemail. "Hey, John, I have to get some sleep before filming tomorrow morning, but just wanted to say I watched your match. Congrats on the win. We'll talk soon."
Upon hanging up, he pushes the half-empty popcorn bag over to rest on the other side of the bed, rolls over and clicks the lamp off before sinking underneath his blankets, yawning. He knows he'll have to call Alex back at some point, having yet to respond to the DM he'd sent on Friday night, but for now, he's too tired to even consider it. His sleep for once is nightmare free, and when he wakes up the next morning, hugging the popcorn bag, its contents spilled all over the mattress and stuck to his face and hair, all he can do is laugh in exasperation at himself before going to get ready for the day.